Why They're So Strong
by VacuumTan
Summary: Even in their desperate search for an unknown end, the children stand strong- each with their own kind of strength. [drabbles; various character-centric; updates daily;]
1. Closeness

**~Closeness~**

A few days back, she had looked over the lively living area of their small apartment and had, although absent-mindedly, internally complained about it being too damn noisy. It had been an especially nerve-wracking day, with the heat outside being too much for anyone to bear and everyone being stuck inside. Together.

The electric fans' quiet buzz had been audible in the morning, when everyone had still been somewhere else or asleep, but the more people assembled on the couches, the less tolerable became the others' yelling and laughing.

At some point, she had given up on trying to cook something- the steam of the boiling water had been too hot, especially given the hellish temperature outside. So she had slumped in a kitchen chair, exhausted from everything going on around her, and sighed. Sooner or later, she would have to break them all apart and ask them what they wanted to order for dinner. Wryly, she ended up wondering if they could feed eight mouths (of which one ate for ten) with the little income they had. If that wasn't the case, she concluded, they could always rely on Kisaragi being an idol and thus of better financial standing.

Despite herself, as always, an overly concerned worrywart, she smiled. These mundane sorrows were something she relished in. They were commonplace things that most people took for granted, maybe they even found them annoying (which they, admittedly, were), but she had been through so much shit in her life that this was perhaps a bit taxing on her nerves, yet not unpleasant. It was peace.

Though it was a fairly loud kind of peace, since a cry startled her out of her thoughts. A bit disgruntled, she got up, then, briefly checking the clock in the kitchen, before deciding that she could calm the mess of yelling and crying and snoring by getting everyone's attention with the prospect of food by now.

She didn't even bother to kick off Kano's hand from the sofa's armrest as she stepped on it, effortlessly balancing on it. The blond by her feet grinned up at her and she rolled her eyes at him before she cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted, "Oi! We're ordering something tonight! What do you want?"

A brief silence followed, everyone looking at the Dan's leader. She brushed her fringe from her face and tucked a few stray strands behind her ear as she descended from the armrest again. Then, after a few seconds, Seto's always pleasant voice was the first to resound. "What do you want for dinner, Mary-Chan?"

"I-I... um, I don't know. Can we hear a few suggestions first?", the small gorgon asked timidly. And then, the expected discussion broke out.

"Can we get Chinese, Danchou?"

"We're not getting Chinese again."

"Shut up, Onii-Chan, only because you had to throw up after last time!"

"How about burgers, then?"

"That actually sounds good!"

"But I wanted pizza!"

"Can we get something... like barbecue?"

"We've only had that."

"Or we could go out and get ice cream? It's so hot, anyways."

"Going out there would be too much for Mary-Chan, right?"

"N-no, i-if everyone... wants to go out, I'll go out, too!"

"I thought we needed proper food for dinner. Not ice cream."

"Hm, we could also get burritos or something like that, right?"

"Or we could quickly buy something pre-made at a convenience store?"

"I want Okonomiyaki!"

"It's too hot for that!"

"I want barbecue."

"What do you think, Kido? What do you want?"

Of course it was Kano who brought the attention back to her. Almost inaudibly, she let out a sigh through her nose before shrugging. "I think pizza would be the best compromise. In the end, everyone can pick what they want, right?", she asked, and after a few mumbled 'okay's, the Mekakushi Dan decided to get pizza that evening.

Looking back on that day now, Kido wanted to kick herself from letting it slip without giving it too much thought. There had been no need to protect anyone, no need to enjoy the company of her friends more than usual. After all, she had lived under the impression that they had been safe. But that had seemingly been nothing but her being dense.

Not bothering to wipe her tears anymore, she desperately reached out for the sneaker-clad ankle to her right. Kano's limp weight leaning against her rendered her almost unable to move, though, even as she tried to reach out to Seto, whose face was almost entirely gone.

She couldn't move, her trembling body preventing her from shoving the blond boy off of her. She couldn't scream, her throat constricting, only letting out choked sobs. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't... she just couldn't... she... she...

There was not an ounce of strength left in her. She realised that as Kisaragi fell onto her brother's cooling body, choking on her own breath.

All the times when she had been pretending to be strong, to be nonchalant about everything... in the end, they had been in vain. Had she been straight forward instead, maybe she wouldn't be stained in her brothers' blood right now, maybe she wouldn't realise how weak she was, maybe she wouldn't just cry like the pathetic, immature girl she still was at heart.

If there was no-one she held dear to protect anymore, what good would fighting back be, then? Without someone close to her, she felt so lonely- so, _so_, lonely. These feelings almost made her choke, but even that seemed too farfetched at the moment.

In the end, she didn't even blink before the bullet pierced her skull.

* * *

**A/N: So yeah, while waiting for the anime, I'll do a quick daily series again. It'll be about every Dan-member, so the characters in the filter will change. The order they're posted in is random. By which I mean: I've got that fancy Wheel of Fortune App and stuff. I'll shut up now.**

**Anyways. Yeah, Kido got to go first. And also, Outer Science, because it's the most fun thing to write. Like, torment. We don't need those silly cutting-fics. We're doing fine. We got the womb. We got the maternity spiral. We got everything. ... Please take the time to guess who said what in the food-discussion. Also, yes, Ene doesn't eat. :IAlso, yes. Picture from wherever. It's not mine. What do you want.  
**


	2. Acceptance

**~ Acceptance ~**

The small, open hallway on the side, facing away from the bustling streets, had remained just as warm as it had been earlier, even though night had fallen already. Not that it mattered much, for the lights of the city wrapped the dark-blue night sky into a warm, orange glow, almost as bright as day. With the sounds of life from below, it could have very well been noon.

And it was perfect.

He slipped to the ground with a quiet groan in the back of his throat, his spine pressed up against the wall. He drew his knees to his chest and rested his heavy head atop of them, sighing and closing his eyes while listening to the painfully nervous sounds of a restless world.

After all these years, he was still alive and kicking. It seemed so strange to him, how he just couldn't stop waking up in the mornings to live another pointless day of a shallow existence. But here he was- irritable and awkward, yet not alone anymore.

Raising his head again, he fumbled with his phone in his pocket, for once void of a blue cyber-girl, and as he retrieved it, he stared at the black screen. A soft, warm feeling spread through his body as he unlocked the screen and opened up his contacts. Before then, he had only had his mother's number and his sister's, but, for the first time since he deleted a set of numbers two years ago, there were more than two contacts listed.

Staring at the screen illuminating his overly pale features in the nigh-darkness, he swept his finger over the smooth surface to go back to the home menu. Absently, he selected the phone, just the regular calling service, and glared at the virtual key-pad as if he was asking it to do something.

Maybe he was doing just that- hoping for the phone to do it by itself. Calling a number that was etched into his memory until the day that he died. A number that, surprisingly, still connected. A number which no-one ever picked up. A number that always went on voicemail. A number that spoke with a voice that was long since gone.

Right after it had happened, he had dialed those digits every day, crying into the flimsy microphone built into his phone for her to come back. As time passed, he had called maybe once a week and once Ene had come around, he hardly had the time or privacy to even think about speaking into his phone without it becoming blackmail material.

Yet, he couldn't entirely get rid of his habit- and now that he had his cell to himself for once, he was going to tell her everything. After all, the past few days had been more exciting than two years worth of time. She would probably be proud, if she saw him now.

His fingers had moved on their own, and he was pressing the cool screen against his ear and his cheek as a beep-sound could be heard exactly eight times, just as always, before, with a muffled sound, an old recording with an ancient phone, started, repeating the same lines as every time with just the same tone of voice.

"Hello, this is Tateyama Ayano speaking!", she chirped and he swallowed hard, his adam's apple bobbing along with it. "Sorry, but I guess I can't answer the phone right now", Ayano's voice continued and a soft laugh resounded. "But I'll make sure to call you back, okay?" He smiled to himself. Of course she wouldn't call back. "Until then, leave me a message after the beep, and I promise to listen to it!" Neither would she listen to his messages. But it didn't really matter. He was well aware of that. After all, he was not stupid enough to deny the truth.

As the beep startled him as usual, he swallowed a small lump in his throat and, with a shaky voice, he began speaking. "Hi Ayano", he said. "I just... uh, I just wanted to let you know that... shit..." Awkwardly, he chuckled under his breath. "Well, let me start from the beginning, okay?"

And then, with a smile, the words just started spilling from his mouth- he began with how he met the Dan at a shopping centre during an attempt at hijacking, how he was almost shot, how everyone had those _crazy_ eyes, how they started getting along and then, finally, he started speaking about his new friends. About Kido, who was pretending to be tough but actually was a very caring housewife kind of person, about Kano who was a complete weirdo who kept on bothering him, about Mary, who was a fluffy and cute girl that was even more introverted than he himself was, about Hibiya, who was a cheeky little shit, about Seto, who hardly was home but was very kind and about Konoha, whom he couldn't make any sense of.

"I know, it all sounds like crazy talk and they're wearing me out, but... I think _you'd_ like them", he finished off his recollection of what had happened. "They're cool, though. It's like I know all of them already, and it's totally comfortable. I'd like you to meet them, but..."

The voices coming from the apartment which he was sitting in front of were getting a little more quiet, yet, his voice was still drowned by the city's sounds. Nonetheless, he had to finish talking soon. "I know you can't be here anymore. So I'll just go and be with these people and move ahead, after all this time", he said softly, brushing his bangs away from his eyes.

"I'm glad you've taught me something, though", he muttered with a smile, tilting his head back so that he could look at the orange glow in the sky. "You've taught me to get involved with people, since one day, it'll be too late and I'll regret it again. I'll do just that." He sighed and closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and enjoying the smell of gasoline and pollution because, really, he was alive, and the world had moved on. That was something he had refused to accept for more than a year. "But I gotta hang up now, okay? Um, so, until whenever."

As he lowered his phone, he noticed how warm it had gotten from being held to his face for so long. He straightened out his legs in front of him, looking at the man-made scenery of tall buildings and strange, glowing decorations.

The door next to him was pushed open gently, a ray of light running over the floor before disappearing again. Milky, bare legs stretched out next to his and a pink-clad shoulder nudged his upper arm. "Hey, Onii-Chan, what are you doing out here?", the blonde asked softly and tried to follow her brother's line of sight.

"I just needed some time by myself", he replied and moved to push himself up again. And, with an unhappy groan and something snapping in his lower back, he managed to do it.

Momo snorted and shook her head, pushing herself up with much more ease than her older sibling. "You've had enough alone-time, you stupid shut-in!", she laughed and was hit by a glare that made her laugh even more. "You know I'm right! Also, let's get inside again, Danchou has been worried about you running away or dying in the streets from exhaustion."

"Momo, I swear-"

"Just kidding, just kidding!", the idol sang playfully, pulled the door open and skipped off into the noisy living room. Standing in the open doorway to apartment 107, Kisaragi Shintarou turned around one final time to gaze over the world that wouldn't rest, even at night.

An infant was crying somewhere. A stray ray of light broke through the orange-tinted sky. Two faint songs blended into each other, creating an off-beat rhythm. A dog barked. A car horn resounded.

The world was moving on.

And so was he.

* * *

**A/N: The wheel has chosen Shintarou! The wheel is absolute. This didn't turn out quite as bad as I had been expecting. Yay!**

**Also, whose voice are we gonna hear tomorrow? The frog or the soda?**


	3. Faith

**~Faith~**

Every little change in a scenario that had been played out already could potentially turn the outcome into something entirely else. A missing link could let the tragic play collapse before its painful climax. A unneccesary element could, in turn, prevent it from reaching a satisfying conclusion and swallow up the grand finale. A wavering second too early, and everything could go to hell. Two minutes too late, and there would be no going back anymore.

But knowing the ideal result put people in a tough spot- they could not change the others' hearts, once gone astray, and also could not do anything but watch in horror as their desired outcome was crushed below the feet of an eternally insatiable tormentor, only because they were lacking the means to know the exact path towards a new, happy ending.

Mary had read about the theoretically perfect setup for a tragedy. The themes of an ideal environment, the images that people were to use, the rhetorical means, the characters, the actions, the ending... But in reality, a tragic play like that would rip apart people's hearts, she concluded.

No-one wanted to rewatch something as awful as a collection of stories, so faint that they almost seemed like a huge, endless nightmare, hoping for someone to spontaneously rewrite the entire story and change it into a cheerful, comedic play about mundane happiness amongst a group of good friends, doing nothing of importance.

No-one wanted to.

But that was the only thing that the small gorgon girl could do. She could pray and enjoy the days as they happened to pass almost the same as every time, until a rotten snake would show his face and sneer at her while stepping on everyone's corpses.

She knew that those dream-like instances made no sense. They couldn't logically connect to any time or place, and yet, she found herself staring out of the window of her small, old house, far off in the forest, wondering what was real and what was just her imagination running wild. And just like in her dreams, she expected someone to come and knock at her door any day now, someone kinder than anyone else, and she wanted him to take her to meet his friends and then, they could live together and be happy.

The images etched into her mind flashed before her eyes and a shiver ran down her spine. If everything should happen the way she had imagined it, then the ending should be clear already, too. She was scared of a possible tragic outcome. If it was like that, maybe she should stop wishing for the world outside to open the door to her little house.

Her wish to protect people she had never met, people who only existed in her fantasies, was growing with the times she woke up, shaking and bathed in her own cold sweat. But who knew, perhaps going out into the world with a different approach could change everything?

Taking a sip from her herbal tea, Mary sighed and went back to reading her book on drama theory. It wasn't all that interesting, really, yet the psychological backgrounds seemed fascinating enough. Maybe she was just regarding her own life in the same light as the analysis did with outdated plays, but it didn't matter. Having lived for more than a hundred years already, the girl hardly knew any shame anymore, in that aspect.

A yelp from outside ripped her out of her thoughts. Pretty much slamming down her book, she let out a squeak and looked out of the window. Indeed, there was someone walking around down there. He was short and only a few strands of black hair peeked out from under his white hood.

Mary inhaled deeply before falling to her knees and pressing up against the wall below the window. This was no good. This was no good at all. Her breath was coming out quickly and she felt nausea overcome her. If anything, this was a déjà vu- a horrible déjà vu that brought tears to her eyes and made her tremble in fear.

This was a dream. One of those unsightly, painfully long dreams that always ended up making her heart ache. Soon enough, she would wake up, screaming for her late mother in the middle of the night, crying and begging for it to stop. She pinched her cheek, and the only thing that happened was that a knock bounced off the walls.

With her trembling hands, she covered her face. _Not again. Don't take it away again._ Another knock. She wondered if she could climb out of the window. A final knock. No, it was too late.

If this scary dream could not end, then she'd have to accept it. But, maybe this time, it would finally reach a happy end. One day, it had to. That was the only thing she wanted to believe in. And with that unwavering faith, she glanced at her curled toes and embraced her idea of an ideal outcome for this cheap tragedy.

No matter how many times she had to watch everything collapse, Mary knew there had to be a happy end to her imaginary world.

* * *

**A/N: God, this sucks. It's like... I was trying to stick to a neutral, somewhat abstract way of storytelling, and then I dun goofed.**

**... Also. Whaaaa! SETO MY BBY, STOP LOOKING AT DEER-KUN IN A DIRTY WAY! SSU! ... I'm not sure which one out of all the CMs broke me most. I guess it's a tie between "SUPAH PRETTY DENNOU GAARU ENE-CHAN!", "I see voices and negima", maternity spiral and "OH LOOK A DEER".  
**


	4. Hope

**~ Hope ~**

Even before everything, Hibiya had always been pushed forwards.

Back in his hometown, merely the honour of getting to be near his beloved Hiyori-Sama had been enough. Following a blind hope, he had become her number one fan, knew what she liked and what she hated, knew how she wanted to be treated, knew her exact height, her shoe-size, her favourite movies, her favourite shampoo and everything else.

When summer came around and she had actually let him come along to spend time at her deceased sister's house, the boy had gotten a taste of heaven. Probably. And following a blind hope, he thought that he was now special to his beloved, even if she was more eager to spend time with _that guy_ or to meet with that stupid ditz of an idol. He had known her far longer than anyone else and he knew every little thing about her.

As days began rewinding, Hibiya had realised how helpless he was, even though he was still trying so hard. Always waking up on the same day, he had desperately reached out to Hiyori as she was, once again, smashed or pierced or ran over or choked or drowned or shot or burnt or anything else that left the poor girl, perfect as she was, to meet her untimely demise. He was following a blind hope each day that, surely, today, she wasn't going to die. For what must have been ages, he had continued like that. Never did the repeating day end. Never did she make it.

And as, one time, the fifteenth of August did finally end, Hibiya was left to his own devices. There were no blind hopes to follow anymore. The girl he adored had died, he was left with a burning pain behind his eyelids and everything went on as usual, just pretending that the most wonderful person on Earth hadn't just passed away.

He was close to despairing. The group of weird people who picked him up wasn't worth it. Nothing was worth it. He wanted to hide in a hole, curl up in a ball and cry until he died.

But that wasn't what that stupid auntie had in mind for him.

When he wanted to die, she had suddenly, quite forcefully, actually, gripped his hand and had pulled him along to go on with life. He wasn't allowed to dwell on his sadness anymore, for she was just _so_ damn distracting, he couldn't stop and cry without her holding his hands, she didn't let him mourn.

"But you know, Hibiya", she had begun as they were strolling around the city, her hood covering her face just as always when she went out with the Dan. "I just really worry about you, sometimes. You're still so young, but you're just void of all hope." The frown on her face looked wrong. He wanted to feel bad, but that meddlesome cow had just crossed another boundary.

"It's not like it mattered", he dismissed her and she hummed in response, her brows knitting together. Of course it mattered, and that wasn't lost on either of them. Yet, Hibiya really didn't want her to pretend to worry about him.

But she wouldn't stop. Oh no, Kisaragi Momo was the epitome of stubbornness, if she really put her mind into it. For the rest of the day, she forced his eyes and thoughts on nothing but her, even without her Eyes.

But even if she tried to, she couldn't do just that. Hibiya wanted to tell her to just stop trying. Everything in this city, no matter where she took him, would remind him of the days he had spent with Hiyori, lastly to just watch her die wherever they went.

And then, it was too much.

Yet, the empathy in those eyes and the determination that followed made him wish that he wasn't crying. That he wasn't vulnerable and weak and pathetic. But instead of laughing at him, instead of telling him to man up or to come up with half-assed excuses, she did something entirely else.

"Hey, it's surely not hopeless, alright?", and, "I'm sure that, if you really believe it from the bottom of your heart, you can meet Hiyori-Chan again!", and, "Because I really _do_ have faith in you, since I know you can do anything!"

About then, he realised something.

He had never believed that he could actually meet his dear Hiyori again and had just given up. True, it seemed unrealistic that they could see each other again if only he thought that it was possible, but giving up on hoping for something was not what was going to get him through life, either. He'd shout it out into the world, if he needed to- that he wanted to believe in what Momo told him.

As he reached out his hand to hold onto her larger one, he hesitated, though. This girl believed in him with the same kind of blind hope that he used to have. And if he needed to start following hopes again to forget all the despair, then so be it.

* * *

**A/N: I love Otsukimi Recital. :I  
**

**Mostly because of the obvious lack of interest regarding this story, tomorrow will be the last chapter. Sorry, I don't feel like rushing myself to write something every day if no-one wants to read it. I'm a very slow writer, so even if I like the idea, like this it's just too bothersome and unrewarding.  
**


	5. Just a thingie

**A/N: Yeah. This is just, like, an A/N. But please read if you actually bothered looking at this, okay?**

**Firstly, I am NOT quitting this like I intended to. However, I just need, like, a break right now, since having lessons until evening sucks and suddenly, my social life is becoming awfully stressful. :I**

**That's why I'll probably pick this back up on Friday or Saturday and I'll try giving it another shot, maybe with some more inspiration and vigour!**

**Until then, thank you!**


	6. Selflessness

**~ Selflessness ~**

Out of all the things people would expect to find in the middle of a forest, an old, run-down house, not a cottage or anything but _a real house_ that was completely detached from society, sure wasn't one.

As he had stumbled and fallen while walking up the hill, he hadn't at all noticed how it had appeared at the top. But when he opened his eyes and stared ahead after landing face-first on the ground, suddenly, a stained, sand-coloured wall with vines covering part of it was, undeniably, in front of him.

At first, of course, he just lay there for a second, putting his rapid thoughts in order again. Why would there be a house like this in the middle of the forest? How come he hadn't come across it before? And was there actually someone still living there? The open window above his head implied that there was, and that thought both intrigued and frightened him.

What if this person was just like all the other people? What if they wanted to hurt him? In the end, he probably couldn't just walk in there, anyways. They surely must have locked the door to keep a random passerby like him out. And maybe there actually wasn't anyone in there at all. Maybe they had just left the window open before they went elsewhere.

Just as he scrambled back to his feet, though, he heard it- it was a faint wail, begging someone to stop. And then, a yelp, sobs, a scream and fading, choked words. Panicking, he looked around before realising that this voice was not actually speaking but instead filling his head with the agony of a someone he didn't even know. That's why, being unable to help it, he began to shake, tears welling up in his eyes as he stared up at the open window, for the first time noticing the thin curtains dancing in the breeze.

His heart ached in his chest as he continued listening to the pained crying in his head, slowly moving towards the door. He hesitated again, idly fiddling with his hood. The person in there... they were all alone while their whole world was coming apart around them for whatever reason. No matter if they would call him weird, just like everyone else did, he couldn't just leave this person alone, either.

And then, the voice spoke, muffled and tear-stained as the words were. "It's scary! This dream was so scary!", they said, and he noticed how the voice was that of a girl. "I can't bear those dreams anymore! But there's no-one here, either, because I'm a monster!"

Her scared tone and her lonely words were familiar to him. He, too, was a monster that everyone hated more than anyone else. He knew how painful it was to be left by himself while he was crumbling to pieces, begging for someone to patch him back up again.

Except, unlike that girl, he had met those people who would try to fix him. A gentle oder sister and parents who tried their best, a good-natured brother and a sweet sister who deeply cared about him. But she didn't have anyone with her in this house in the forest, it seemed.

So, even with shaking hands and trembling legs, he softly knocked at the door. The voice screamed. "No, don't do this! Please don't let this happen!", she begged, tears entering her tone again. "Don't make him come in! I... I beg you, just let him walk away! I can't take it anymore!"

Briefly, he wondered what she was talking about as he, admittedly quite rudely, pushed the door open just a bit after finding it open. And there she sat. She was crouching on the ground, covering her eyes as she sobbed into her palms. He wanted to reach out to her, but she didn't look up. So he hesitated. That moment, for a second, a stream of images flooded his head.

A beautiful woman, covered in blood while lying on the ground.

A foggy picture of a grave decorated with flowers.

Books and more books, fleeting contents.

Feet that seemed too familiar.

A hand that resembled his own, stretched out towards what he assumed to be the girl.

His own face, suddenly aging a few years.

A heap of dead bodies, a few of the shapes reminiscent of people dear to him.

A grin, stretching over a pale face, that didn't even bother hiding all its ill-intend.

And then, finally, what appeared to be his own body, lying on the ground.

He was frozen in place, his eyes widening. Were those the dreams the girl had seen? If that was the case, then how did she know who he was? Or anyone else, for that matter? Maybe those things had not been a dream at all? He shuddered at the thought.

It meant that he was going to die- that he was throwing his own life away by reaching out to the girl. He really wanted to pull his hand back and run. But as he looked down at the pathetic, crying form on the ground, left behind by the rest of the world to suffer by herself, he couldn't help but let his pity overtake him. If he was going to die because he helped a crying girl, then so be it. He had suffered long enough to know that he couldn't leave someone alone, even if it meant abandoning himself. So he crouched, gently pulling her hands away from the girl's face.

As she looked him in the eyes then, for the first time, her eyes were wide, shimmering in a pretty shade of pink and he wiped her tears. "Don't cry, okay?", he asked her, ever so softly and she nodded.

And as he took another shot to his already perforated body, she really couldn't cry anymore.

As if to honour his selfless sacrifice.

* * *

**A/N: ... So. Yeah. No. Messed up. I can't do Seto any justice. Yet, I adore him. He's so sweet. And pretty to boot. And deer.**

**But I'm doing better. Thanks for the reviews. You guys are really sweet. I don't deserve you.**


	7. Love

**~ Love ~**

She had picked up the bad habit of biting her nails even before her mother's death and the resulting collapse of everything she used to love.

First, none of the other kids seemed to notice. Or at least they didn't really care. They'd play games all the same, they'd mess around without realising that she sometimes brought her hands up to her mouth to start nibbling at her nails. Only when they were chewed down to little stubs and her fingers were covered in bite-marks and her skin was torn did they notice, just because she would occasionally wince when grabbing onto things with her fingertips.

For two weeks, she had band-aids wrapped around her every digit, since her mother was worried. During that period, she had a really hard time picking stuff up, mostly because her fingers had no grip to them whatsoever. Afterwards, she promised to stop her habit and really, she did. It wasn't worth the trouble again.

Sometimes, she wanted to go back to biting and chewing, though, when the voices from her parents' bedroom got louder at night.

She was already in elementary school when her mother introduced them to her. A trio of little siblings, looking at the ground with defeated, almost glowing red eyes. Anything to not look at her, because, really, their expressions spoke volumes. As she thought about what she could do to get them to talk to her after a week of silence, slowly, her teeth sunk into her thumb.

Soon, her nails were bitten at again. Not as bad as they had been before, but there was still a bloody crust surrounding them. This time, after many days spent messing around and laughing, it was, surprisingly, her sweet, new little sister who voiced her concern for her mental well-being. After claiming that it was just a bad habit she had picked up again, Tsubomi actually started painting her nails for her. Of course she enjoyed it, mostly because her cute little sibling, despite her boyishness, went out of her way to do something like that.

Little did she know that the polish tasted awful. She'd only realise it one disgusted expression later after she tried chewing her fingertips again.

After her mother's death, however, even the taste of nail-polish didn't keep her from practically destroying her hands. At that point of time, the pain when she almost ripped apart her fingers with her teeth, was something welcome. Some sort of proof that she was still going on somehow, even when her father was becoming more distant and her little siblings were just as heartbroken as she was.

The nervous strain that came afterwards made her nails become almost non-existent. "Don't let anyone see them", she had said to her exact copy standing in front of her. "People will worry if they see them, so make it so that my hands look fine." Her mirror nodded, and she forced a little smile. "Shuu-Chan, I'm leaving this to you."

Being incomplete in transformation, the voice that responded was the cracking voice of a pubescent boy. "I don't want Onee-Chan to chew on her hands any more than this, so you can rely on me without worrying", Shuuya said, brushing a strand of long brown hair that wasn't his behind an ear that wasn't his, either.

"Thank you", she had said, and was close to crying.

Scars were covering her hands by the time she could hardly push forwards anymore. The documents on inhumane research and experiments, as well as the people she cherished being so deeply involved in them... they all put her in a spot where she couldn't do anything but cry and beg and pray to God for some sort of easy escape route from the pain everyone was in.

"Why are there so many bruises on your hands, Ayano-Chan?" I was a question that made the few occupants of the room perk up. Even though he seemed air-headed, Haruka-Senpai had noticed. She had laughed it off, had said that she was very nervous because of upcoming exams. It should have been a legitimate answer, really, considering how bad she usually did at school, yet her face must have betrayed her that moment, since she was lying so openly to one of the people who would, inevitably, be suffering because of the things she had seen and read.

"Idiot", another voice said. "They're older than a few weeks at most. There's scar tissue there." Ever the perceptive one, Shintaro. "Though I'm sure you didn't have them in middle school." Because they had been hidden at that time, her mind told her, helpfully. Because it hadn't been her at all whom the boy had spent so much time with.

At last, excuses had saved her that day.

The days leading up to her fulfilling her plan, her lonely, sad little plan, left her hands in bloody messes. Kou-Chan had been the only one to even spare her a pitying glance. She was hurting and she already knew what she was going to do.

Her mind couldn't take it anymore. She was destroying herself prematurely. The lives of everyone she loved had pooled together in her head and had mingled until the homogenous mass of affection gone astray and unfulfilled promises and dreams poured out of her mouth and tore her own flesh completely while she choked on her tears, pathetically trying to stop her blood from flowing out without restraint.

This pain was the only strength that she had left.

This pain was every ounce of the love that she was going to put behind her actions.

She just had to remind herself of it, inflicting more and more scars on her hands on her way to complete self-destruction.

* * *

**A/N: Did I just emo!Ayano. I think I did.**

**Wow, guys. I'm sorry. I wanted to pick this back up, but shit, can you spell busy? I don't even know what happened. Suddenly, there was no time or something.**

**Damn. Novel Spoilers. I used them. But... wow. Like, Jin doesn't even give two fucks. Wow. ... Kano. Well. Yeah. This is also kinda like... is it legit to ship Shinkano now? Cause I really don't want to and if everyone does... eh. Shinkono. Nuff said.**


	8. Gentleness

**~ Gentleness ~**

On your first day, you accidentally broke down a door.

Kenjirou-San had scolded you for that and kept telling you to be careful when pushing them open. Also, that, when a door was locked, you should realise it and leave it be instead of pushing until the wood cracked. Most people couldn't do that, anyways, he had said with an exhausted sigh.

Another two doors had to be broken until you finally got the hang of it, though.

Careful. You had to be careful with everything, lest you wished to break it. It didn't take a genius to figure out that you were stronger than everyone else, despite your lanky and lean frame- that uncanny strength was something that actually put you at a disadvantage when it came to trivial chores and errands.

But you were doing better. You could finally learn how to eat with chopsticks, since you didn't snap them in half right away.

Slow. Not that you were the fastest thinker, but you had to take everything even more slowly if you wanted to get it right. It felt like your hands didn't quite do what you wanted them to and soon, you found out that this kind of thing was called 'clumsiness'. So you stuck to thinking about what to do for minutes before actually doing it, sometimes staring off into space while wondering if it was worth it. This kind of behaviour seemed to irritate other people, but you could never quite fathom as to why that was.

Drawing was something you could do quickly, though. Surprisingly, you were good at it.

Quiet. In the almost empty house, it didn't feel right to interrupt the silence. Not that there was much to say, either way. You spent your days thinking about this and that, finding that none of the things in your head held enough importance to them to be voiced aloud. Or at least, they probably were far from interesting to most people.

At least, you never spoke out of turn. Because you only ever answered when asked something, others started to think that you were dumb.

Polite. It wasn't like Kenjirou-San had a lot of visitors. But when there were people coming over, you always found yourself exhibiting only the best of manners. You bowed extra deep to compensate for your awkwardly tall body, you greeted formally with little obnoxious emotion and held up casual conversation just as boring as expected of you. When someone asked, you were a foster child in the Tateyama household and your name was Konoha. Frankly, that was about everything you knew about yourself, anyways.

After all, there was an obvious gap in your memory, leading up to whom you were today.

Kind. Society valued patient and kind people, it seemed. In all those TV shows that you watched in the afternoons, the guys liked the kindest girls most, and the girls, in turn, liked the kindest guys, even though they sometimes got led astray. This discovery made you wonder if you were a kind person, too, and if there would be someone to like you one day. Your lack of interaction with people made it hard to determine.

And one day, you asked if you could go out to play.

Emotional. Sure, your face and voice hardly reflected your feelings, but that didn't mean that you weren't just as sentimental as everyone else. Admittedly, there were a lot of things you didn't understand yet, but you knew the joy that you felt when you finally managed to write your name or when you got to eat your favourite kind of barbecue, as well as the unexplainable sadness when your favourite character from an anime died or when you realised that there was no more ice-cream left in the freezer. It felt only natural to cry when the team you were on while playing with the neighbourhood kids lost. They were always a bit shocked because, really, you were so much older than them (you supposed) so you shouldn't be crying. But when you were sad, you just couldn't help but let out your tears.

The children would hug you, then, and tell you that it was just a game. You only wished that you could be a good loser as well. You felt like you had betrayed them every time.

But, finally, you just had to be all of these things to function properly alongside everyone else. You knew that you weren't the same as them, yet you didn't really see any reason for thinking too much about who you were and why you were that way. Instead, you'd rather occupy yourself with taking a nap, never seeing a single dream to haunt your mind.

'Gentle' was what you wanted to be, ultimately.

You supposed that it was because there was so much strength piled up inside of you that there was no need for you to become any stronger. Instead, you wanted to be someone who didn't need to use any force to reach a goal. You'd be patient and supportive, if that was what the situation required, and afterwards, you would just stand by and enjoy the day.

There was still too much left for you to discover in this world- you knew that.

With a tiny smile, you looked up at the sky and wondered if this world didn't like a gentle person better than a strong one.

Maybe those two were the same.

* * *

**A/N: Second person! I don't know, I wanted to do it like this. It's a choppy read, though. Mostly because my writing is very choppy, lately. I 'unno.  
**

**Ah, my baby~. I seriously think that Konoharuka is like, the most percious thing to exist. I love him so much, it's not even healthy.**

**Also, you've probably noticed it already, but my headcanon for Konoha is that he is a huge thinker ["tada tada kangaeteku atama" aside] and only seems so slow because he has too much going on in his head. And also that he can't read really well and only knows Hiragana. **


End file.
